Who Am I? or Why The Ninjas Won't Get My Daughter!

I came to a realization today.

I am one of "THOSE" parents. The kind I swore I would never be.

I made this discovery at 6:46 PM, July 5, 2009.

I was sitting on the deck of mom's place at the beach enjoying a good book. The weather, for early July, was unbelievably great. Cool, with a strong breeze that caressed the brow and carried with it the smells of the sea. I was completely immersed in the novel I was reading. Life was good, front cover illustration of a summer magazine good.

As I reclined and read, The Peanut approached. She is usually very good about waiting for me to look up at her when I have my nose in a book unless there is something she really wants. Since most times she approaches me when I am reading the reason is because there is something she really wants, the previous sentence is an outright fabrication.

She approached and launched her not-as-tiny-as-it-used-to-be body at my exposed and vulnerable lap. Bodily harm ensued. I won't dwell on the damage incurred here as this is a family friendly blog, but I will surmise that guys reading this are cringing and women reading this are smiling (would someone please answer for me why women find these types of injuries so amusing?).

When I was able to breathe again, I asked what she needed. She told me she really wanted to go to the park because, and I once again quote directly, "There are girls playing over there that are not my friends and I know they want to be my friends daddy."

Mom's place sits right next to a playground complete with a sandbox, several swings, wooden climbing structures, plastic slides, and several picnic benches. All playground accoutrements are arranged on an open piece of land, surrounded on three sides by trees. It is a great park, one that the Peanut and I have spent a lot of time at together. But lately, as in this occasion, she has been asking to go sans daddy.

The playground is clearly visible from the deck so I gave her my blessing to go forth and create as many new friendships as possible. She ran off to do just that and I settled back and resumed my reading, seeking to recapture the reverie I had been so enjoying.

And that is when it happened. As I resumed my reading I heard a noise that came from the direction of the playground. I don't know what it was, can't even remember it to describe it here, but it was a noise of unknown causation...and it had come from the direction my daughter had just departed for. I was up off of the couch in an instant, eyes searching the playground for The Peanut. I found her immediately, climbing around with two other little girls. All appeared well. No aliens or Russian spies attempting to kidnap my daughter. I sighed and returned to my spot.

After I picked the book up off the floor where it had fallen, I dusted it off and spent a minute or two finding my place. I found the last sentence I remembered reading and tried to pick up the thread. Seconds after I found it, a high pitched yell reached my ears.

I shot up off the couch like it was on fire - again; my book went flying - again. I ran to the edge of the deck, certain that The Peanut was being mauled by a 500 pound, HIV infected Rottweiler with rabies. But no. She and her two new friends were playing a game of tag on one of the wooden tree house climbing structures and they were doing what little girls tend to do when they are having fun chasing each other. Yelling and screaming, pig tails flying.

So I walked back to my couch and picked my book off the floor - again. After waiting a few minutes for my heart rate to climb back down to medically acceptable levels I returned to the same sentence. I read it and about seven or eight others that followed, trying to get back into the story. But my eyes kept leaving the printed page and gliding to the park, tracking The Peanut's red shirt.

The park is less than ten yards from the deck I was sitting on. It is fenced in on all three sides with a huge pavilion taking up the entire length of the fourth. The only human beings in the park were The Peanut and her two new friends. There were no exposed wires, dangerous animals, unfilled excavation pits, or unexploded WWII era land mines. No open flames, loaded firearms, or horribly distraught Michael Jackson impersonators (too soon?) anywhere to be found. Short of me standing right next to her, holding her hand, I am pretty sure she was as safe as she could possibly be.

Yet I could not return to my reading. Suddenly the idyllic afternoon I had been enjoying had become the possible stage for horrifying scenes of indescribable danger. I had to keep on eye on The Peanut. Peril lurked in every corner of that playground, I knew this to be true. When people walked by I smiled and pretended to be simply looking at my daughter playing with her new friends, a care free, happy smile on my face. I even kept the forgotten book open in my lap.

All the while keeping constant vigil for the midget ninjas that were going to drop out of the sky at any minute and fall upon The Peanut and her friends.

I did not breathe a sigh of relief until she was back in the house for dinner, sweaty and dirty, but by no means bleeding or bruised.

When did I become this parent?

Or worse...

Will I always BE this parent?